She's got to be waiting for me by the truck ... I hope she's not mad ...
It looks like the TIROS-1 weather satellite picture.
Right, I've lost my damn mind.
I have to wake up now.
I never thought I could conceive a vision so beautiful and yet so horrifying. The longer I stay plastered against the glass, the more a haze forms around my fingers and palm, a sign that beyond these thin little glass doors was an extreme cold. These thin little glass doors.
I'm dreaming. I must be. All of this is impossible, even if there is more to all this than meets the eye.
But it feels like I'm awake. How is this happening? What's going on?